


nothing else will do

by gravitycentered



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cisswap, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Orgasm, Friends With Benefits, Gender or Sex Swap, Vaginal Sex, girl!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycentered/pseuds/gravitycentered
Summary: Since she’s been thinking about it nearly all the fucking time, she has to ask someone impartial, “Is that weird? That I haven’t?”Though she can tell that he tries to remain neutral, Louis sees from his face that it is quite weird. “Um,” he mumbles at first, attempting to look thoughtful. “I… don’t know.”“So that’s a yes.”-Louis has never had an orgasm. Harry thinks she deserves one.





	nothing else will do

**Author's Note:**

> !!! THIS !!! is the first fic i've posted in almost an ENTIRE YEAR. my god. many big special thanks to saskia for doing a real quick beta job when i finished this like an hour ago, and to ana for listening to me whine and complain and continuously increase the projected word count for this stupid fic. 
> 
> ps i very narrowly avoided titling this fic The Magic Cock, so ur welcome for not doing that.

Drunk and mildly belligerent, Louis bangs her way into her flat only to find Harry sprawled on her couch. It’s not an abnormal sight, but she still kicks off her horribly painful heels and leaves them in the middle of the floor, demanding, “And why the fuck are you here?” 

“My shower’s broken,” Harry says, giving her a once-over. “You look nice.” 

“Is it actually broken, or have you just come to use all my hot water and shampoo?” 

“You look _very_ nice,” Harry repeats, plastering on a charming grin. 

Louis sighs, stumbling slightly when she tries to pull off her jumper. “Did you ever meet Lauren?” she asks, but before Harry can answer she barrels onwards, “She was a right fucking cunt tonight.” 

“Oh dear,” Harry says. He sits up and slaps the cushion next to him, “What’s happened, then?” 

“Well—we were talking about shagging, so that’s where this story’s going,” Louis warns, dropping her handbag right on top of her shoes before flopping onto the couch next to him, unbothered by her skirt riding up on the way. 

“I’m already interested,” he insists. 

“So we were talking about shagging. And I’ve already had quite a few so I’m feeling like a bit of an idiot, and I hear Lauren and her mate Emma talking about their, like, top five orgasms or whatever and I have to go and make some bloody joke about how, like—ha ha, wouldn’t I like to know, ‘cos I’ve never had one.” She pauses then to gauge Harry’s reaction, taking a second to squint at his face, and spies perhaps a bit of confusion in the twitch of one eyebrow. “Anyway, apparently that’s really bizarre to them. And they spent the rest of the bloody night telling me about it!” 

“Telling you that it was bizarre?” 

“Well, Lauren made a big show of pitying me for it for a while, like, _oh, you poor darling, I couldn’t live without my orgasms._ Then she and Emma rounded up every other fucking person in the entire bar to keep going on about how horrible it’d be to never come again or never have done it in the first place, how empty their lives would be. It was so overdramatic,” Louis groans, leaning her head back against the couch. 

Unsurprisingly, Harry won’t just simplify the support process and agree that they were cunts. He says, very diplomatic, “I don’t think you need to go out with them again. No need to waste your time on rude people.” 

“You’re very sweet, but very unhelpful,” Louis mumbles. She feels a bit like she’s slurring her words together; she licks her lips and reminds herself to enunciate more clearly next time. 

“Shall I hire a hitman? Would that be more helpful?” 

“Yes. Much better,” she says, this time overly crisp and posh, enough that Harry half-snorts out a laugh at her expense. 

 

-

 

“I wanna ask you something,” Louis says, less than a week later. She’s drunk again—off Harry’s rather fancy wine this time—but he’s in a slightly worse state than she is for once. 

“Yes,” he says, hyper-focused, leaning forward to fix his eyes on her face while he waits for the question. It makes her feel a bit more awkward than she had around ten seconds ago. 

“I told you I’ve never had an orgasm,” she reminds him. 

Harry repeats, “Yes,” though this time his voice sounds a bit tighter and his face morphs into the expression that he makes when he isn’t sure what expression he should be making. 

Since she’s been thinking about it nearly all the time since fucking Lauren went on and on about how awful it’d be to be in Louis’s position, she has to ask someone impartial, “Is that weird? That I haven’t?” 

Though she can tell that he tries to remain neutral, Louis sees from his face that it is quite weird. “Um,” he mumbles at first, attempting to look thoughtful. “I… don’t know.” 

“So that’s a yes.” 

“I don’t know! Different equipment!” 

“Oh, come on. You fuck women, though. Do they always come as well?” 

She doesn’t expect Harry’s cheeks to go so red from what seems like a rather innocent question; he’s been relatively open about his pulls in the past. He stutters a bit, endearingly, “Well—unless, uh. I don’t know, unless they’re quite good at faking it, I’d have to say yes?” 

“How would you know if they’re faking?” she asks. It’s partially a genuine question, but also partially to knock his ego back down a peg. 

Harry takes a nice, long swig of his wine before replying. “I feel like I’m narrating a porno,” he observes, but carries on, “they get—quite tense. Breathe faster, pull my hair sometimes, I guess. I thought it was pretty easy to tell but you’ve got me doubting myself now.” 

Louis hums. She rests her elbow on Harry’s dining table and nudges her long-finished dinner plate away, propping her chin in her hand to watch him for a moment. “I haven’t got a clue what I’ve been doing wrong my whole bloody life,” she admits. “Never bothered me until the other day. Fucking dickhead Lauren.” 

“No, fuck her,” Harry insists, more vehement this week, now that he’s also intoxicated. “Don’t let it bother you if it never has before.” 

“I do wanna know what it’s like, though,” Louis says, making an unhappy face at him. “I mean—sounds fucking fun. I’ve always liked sex anyway, but…” 

Harry leans against his forearms, both flat on the table. He stares at her for a long second before asking, “Do you, like… I mean, you’ve never done it by yourself, even? Do you wank?” 

“Oh god,” Louis sighs. She reckons she should’ve expected this. “Yes, I wank. And it’s quite fun, I’ve just never gotten to—I dunno, an obvious finishing point. After a while I’m just like, alright, that’s quite enough of that.” 

“I think this is where the different equipment bit comes in,” Harry frowns, looking down at his lap. “If I don’t finish what I start he’s angry with me the rest of the day.” 

Louis finds herself smiling at that, amused. “Yeah, well, a stiff breeze could blow through and finish you off so I’d imagine he would get quite angry if you’re too lazy to do the job yourself.” 

“Excuse me,” Harry says, looking back at her with faux-hurt in his expression. “You don’t know that. I’ve got very impressive stamina.” 

“I didn’t say anything about your stamina, you fucking narcissist,” Louis laughs. “Compared to me you’ve got it easy, though. Apparently I need all the planets aligned and the touch of an otherworldly being to make myself come, you’ve just gotta tug it a couple times.” 

Harry shakes his head, lips pressed together, but he does admit, “That’s fair.” He pushes the half-full wine glass over to her side of the table and waits until she takes a sip before asking, “What all have you tried? Something’s gotta work.” 

“What haven’t I tried?” Louis shrugs. 

He holds up his index finger and taps it with the index of his other hand, “Sex toys?” 

“Check,” she confirms. 

“Fingers? Yours. Or someone else’s,” Harry suggests, tapping two more fingers, middle and ring this time.

“Both.” 

On the pinky tap, he offers, “Mouth?” 

“Yep.” 

Hesitating on the thumb tap, he asks, “Penis?” 

“Jesus,” Louis mumbles. “You already know the answer to all of these questions.” 

Harry taps his fingers against the table instead now and looks at her, almost frowning again. He seems pensive, like he’s trying to figure out how he can fix Louis’s issues with one quick, simple solution that she’s somehow missed all these years. Still, she’s completely unprepared for him to say, “I bet I could make you come.” 

To be fair, Harry also looks like he was unprepared to say this. He winces immediately afterward and then closes his eyes, slapping a hand over his face. 

“Oh my god,” Louis says. “You really are a bloody fucking narcissist, aren’t you? Holy shit.” 

“Sorry,” he groans, muffled into his palm. 

“You can make me come, huh? With your magic cock?” 

He kicks her under the table, but she sees his shoulders shake a little when he giggles silently, a smile visible behind his hand. “You deserve to have one, s’all I meant!” he insists. 

“Oh, and you’re gonna give it to me? Are you the otherworldly being who can finish me off when no one else has been able to?” she asks, on the edge of dissolving into giggles herself. It seems too absurd to be a real offer. 

“Fuck, stop it, I’m sorry,” Harry laughs. He crosses his arms on the table and buries his face in them, obviously embarrassed. 

“You’re unbelievable,” she says. She stands with a bit of difficulty and grabs both the glass and the nearly-empty wine bottle, “I’m cutting you off for the night, sir.” 

“I think that’s for the best,” Harry agrees, head still hidden. 

 

-

 

Louis does a terrible job of forgetting about the… offer. The offer that wasn’t really an offer, she’s sure. Over the next several days she finds herself getting wet while she thinks about it, wondering if Harry’s actually got some secret sex tricks up his sleeve, what kinds of techniques he’d employ. She ends up idly rubbing between her legs before bed more nights than not, trying to figure out whether he’s always been fit or whether she just _thinks_ he’s fit now because he’s insinuated that he’d shag her. She doesn’t come to any conclusions. 

On Sunday night, she decides to give the orgasm thing another try. Probably the hundredth official try she’s made in her lifetime, maybe well into the two hundreds by now. She strips herself completely naked and spreads a towel over her bedsheets, getting her vibrator and bottle of lube ready for the attempt. It’ll feel good regardless, she knows, but she puts herself in the mindset of orgasm, silently thinking, _I’m going to come tonight._

Though she tries to take it slow from the beginning, she only lasts a few minutes before she’s getting the vibrator nice and slick. She’s wet enough without it, but feeling the mess drip down her skin and onto the towel under her hips is one of the little details that helps her inch closer to that elusive edge. 

But, as it always happens, she never gets there. She plays with herself for nearly a solid hour—slow and quick, gentle and rough, combinations of the two, with her left hand and her right, with the vibrator and her fingers, one hand rubbing her clit while the other works the toy in and out… and nothing. As usual, there are several moments of much more intense pleasure and moments where she’s nearly bored, staring at the ceiling while she masturbates. After she glances at the clock and sees that it’s nearly 11 at night, she turns the vibrator off and tosses it to the side, groaning in frustration. 

She’s become used to it by now. She has to, she figures, or else she’d hate sex and intimacy and develop some kind of fucking complex, or whatever. Still, there’s no way to avoid the fact that it’s disappointing to put so much effort into figuring out her body with little to no reward for it. 

After she’s had a quick, sad wallow, Louis dries her fingers on the towel and grabs her phone, checking her unread messages. There’s nothing new from Harry, but she hovers over their message thread and decides to open it, thumbs tapping without her permission, _Are you awake ?_

She hopes he’s not. It’s starting to get quite late for him now, close to midnight before a weekday. There’s a high chance that he’s already in bed.

 _I am. Hello_ , Harry texts a moment later. Louis sighs. 

She’s fully aware of what she’s doing, but plans to use sexual frustration as an excuse if anyone ever happens to ask. _Were you serious the other day?_ she replies, praying that it isn’t too vague of a question but a bit too cautious to be more explicit. 

Harry seems to understand, at least, sending back, _I was._ She waits but receives nothing else. 

_Can you come to mine ?_

As soon as the message says _delivered_ , she wants to take it back. Before she can even lock her phone, Harry types back, _Give me 30 .x_

 

-

 

He arrives in less than 20. Louis is still naked on her bed—sex paraphernalia thrown around the room, wet towel under her hips—when he knocks at the door. She’s spent the last 17 minutes staring at her phone and squirming around anxiously, considering a shower or telling him not to come over or locking her door and pretending to be asleep. The knock jumpstarts her heart so quickly that she’s afraid it might explode. 

“Hang on!” she calls out, jumping out of bed. She tosses her vibrator in the nightstand drawer without cleaning it, dragging the towel between her legs to remove the slick there before shoving it in the laundry basket. After hurriedly tugging on a pair of knickers, the only top she can find to wear is a massively long t-shirt that she tends to sleep in. Louis only realizes that her nipples are still hard and very visible when she’s already opened her front door. 

Harry looks a bit smug when he sees her, glancing briefly at her chest before locking his eyes onto her face. “You booty called me,” he accuses, smirking. 

“You can go home now,” Louis says, heart still pounding harshly. 

“I’m not going home til you’re satisfied,” Harry says, grinning broadly, fully aware that he’s being ridiculous. He steps in close enough that her tits press against his ribs, closing the door behind him while Louis tries very hard to stay quiet and not embarrass herself. 

“Reckon you’ll be here a long time, then,” she mumbles, looking up at him. He’s not terribly tall, but he’s got a good few inches on her even without his ostentatiously heeled boots. “Years, probably.” 

“Years? Don’t have any more faith in me than that?” he asks, placing a slightly tentative hand on her waist. 

Louis is playful but honest when she replies, “I don’t, actually.” Despite the fact that she asked him here, she isn’t expecting the doors of heaven to open or for this night to be the first in a string of passionate, orgasmic hookups. Though—she can’t ignore the fact that she’s excited about the possibility, however slight it may be. 

“Suppose I’ll have to prove you wrong,” Harry murmurs, glancing quite pointedly at her lips. 

Louis tilts her chin up a little, an invitation despite how nervous she feels, being this close to him. “Know you’re not the only one who’s tried, don’t you?” she tells him. 

“I know,” he says, nudging the tips of their noses together. 

From this close she can smell the mint on his breath, and can’t help but tease him, “Brushed your teeth before you arrived, eh?” 

“Used mouthwash and all,” Harry confirms, smiling. Their first kiss happens then, so soft and quick that it hardly feels like anything. 

“Didn’t have much of a chance for oral hygiene, meself,” Louis murmurs. Willing to embarrass herself a bit in order to goad Harry into a deeper kiss, she says more quietly, “Was touching myself before you got here.” 

Harry makes a slightly pained sound, sliding his hand around to her lower back. “No luck, then?” 

“No luck,” she says, hooking her index fingers in the two front loops of his jeans. Cheeks red, she goes on, “Fucked myself for ages and nothing happened, besides me getting all wet.” 

This time Harry gives in, groaning quietly before kissing her again, more firmly this time. Louis holds her breath and lets him lead it, disappointed when he stops to murmur against her lips, “What else did you try?” 

Unable to stop herself from taking the piss, Louis puts on an over-the-top seductive voice, “Told you I’ve tried everything. I need your cock, nothing else will do.” 

She feels Harry’s smile, just before his free hand slips underneath her hair to rest at the back of her neck. His seductive voice is much more convincing—he says, soft, “You’re joking, but you wouldn’t’ve called me over if you didn’t believe that, even just a little.” 

“What I truly can’t believe is how full of yourself you are,” Louis breathes, nudging her knee against his leg. 

“Oh, it’s only gonna get worse after I make you come,” he grins. Louis can’t tell if he actually thinks he’ll be able to pull this off or if he’s just along for the ride, but she’s decided that she couldn’t care less. 

She takes a step back then but Harry follows her more smoothly than she expects, kissing her deeply enough to throw her off balance a little. “Wanna take you to bed,” she says, tugging him closer by his belt loops before stepping away again. 

Harry follows along obediently this time, licking his lips. Now that they’ve made it clear what’s happening, he isn’t shy at all—he looks down her body, eyes on her ass when she turns around to lead him back to her bedroom. It makes her feel warm all over, being watched. She hasn’t gotten laid in ages, feeling too lazy to try and find a partner and too old to pull someone in a club; Harry is the perfect in-between, familiar and affectionate without the baggage of romance. 

It smells so strongly of sex in her bedroom that she’s embarrassed again, chewing her lip when she walks in. Harry must notice but he doesn’t say anything, just pulls his boots off and crawls onto her bed, propping himself up against the headboard and holding a hand out for her, “C’mere, want you in my lap.” 

“Think you’re gonna be calling all the shots, then?” she asks, only getting one knee on the mattress at first. 

“For as long as you’ll let me,” Harry admits. He smiles at her and impatiently wiggles his fingers, nodding his head to try and encourage her to come closer. 

Louis doesn’t protest, though she’s tempted to. She climbs into his lap and winds her arms around his neck, fingers nervously petting the short hairs at the back of his head. Harry sighs heavily once she’s on top of him, seemingly content, hands immediately settling on her thighs.

“So,” she mumbles, “what now?” She feels like she’s on display, her chest nearly eye-level with Harry and her legs spread enough that he could easily get a glimpse of her knickers if he happened to look down. 

“What? You didn’t come yet?” he teases, smiling. “Come here and kiss me.” 

Before she complies, Louis gently whacks the side of his head. Harry just laughs, preemptively tilting his head when she leans in to shut him up with a kiss. 

Even a kiss in this position feels—more, somehow. Louis lets herself actually experience it, paying attention to the gentle way Harry’s lips part even for the softest kisses she gives him, offering her more when she wants it. Despite seeming eager to take the lead, Harry lets her kiss him as slowly or frantically as she wants, breathing out quiet little sounds against her lips while she guides him with a hand on his jaw. 

Harry’s hands seem to have no boundaries, however. He slides them from her knees all the way up her body, rucking up her shirt and briefly supporting the weight of her breasts in his palms before carrying onwards up to her shoulders. His thumbs dig gently into the hollow of her collarbones when he pulls her closer. 

When she feels herself start to get overwhelmed, Louis whispers against his lips, “So what’s your big plan? To get me off?” 

“No big plans. Just tentative plans,” Harry murmurs between kisses. 

“What’s the tentative plan, then?” 

“To get you to shut up,” Harry tells her, smiling when she makes an offended sound. 

“You’re such a dickhead,” Louis insists. She presses in closer anyway, letting the insides of her thighs settle against his hips. “Here I am, trying to get you to talk dirty to me…” 

Harry’s hands make their way down to her bum then, giving it a solid squeeze. “Oh, that’s what you want? Dirty talk? Thought you just wanted to take the piss out of me.” 

“I can want both,” Louis replies, breathless despite the effort she puts into keeping her voice steady. 

Harry hums and leaves a sparse trail of kisses past her cheek and jaw, down to her neck. “I wanna get my mouth on you, first.” 

“Feels like it’s already on me.” 

Taking the bait, Harry drops his voice and murmurs to her, “On your pussy. If you’re gonna make me be explicit about it.” The tips of his fingers slide down along the cleft of her ass, far enough between her legs that she starts to squirm. When she doesn’t respond outside of a quiet gasp, he goes on, “Wanted to lick you for ages, I’ll stay there for as long as you need me to.” 

Harry slips his fingertips past the edge of her knickers, dipping the middle one between her lips to feel the slick already gathered there. Louis’s cheeks burn and she drops her forehead onto his shoulder, digging her nails into the back of his neck with a whimper. She’s aroused and tense and nervous now, nervous that Harry’s going to be left disappointed by the end of the night; she has to say, “I probably—I won’t come, I can’t,” just to be sure that he knows. 

“You can,” Harry insists, softly kissing the lobe of her ear. “We can stop whenever you want, s’alright if you don’t finish, but—you can, yeah? Know you can.” 

“Fuck,” Louis whines. Harry’s finger is stroking just over the entrance to her pussy, pressing a little like he’s eager to get inside, and she’s finding it difficult to think. “You better not get fucking upset with me when I can’t.” 

“Why would I get upset with you? Just wanna make you feel good,” Harry murmurs. He’s unfairly smooth about it, sucking a soft kiss to the skin under her jaw at the same moment he slides his hand even further between her legs, nudging his finger against her clit to make her jump. 

“ _God_ ,” Louis groans, clamping her thighs around his hips. “Have a feeling your ego’s gonna take a beating when nothing happens, s’all.” 

Back to being playful, Harry murmurs, “And I think yours is gonna take a _terrible_ beating when I finally make you come. With my magic cock.” 

Louis laughs despite herself, pushing her face against his neck. “I truly and honestly hate you,” she says. 

“Aw, babe,” Harry simpers, as if she’s said something romantic. He takes his hand out of her knickers to slowly push them down over her ass instead, her shirt already bunched at the small of her back to let her feel the cool air against her bare skin again. 

Louis swallows hard when he rests a hand on either cheek and spreads her open to expose her pussy, embarrassed even though no one can see it. “You can’t lick me from here,” she whispers, half sure the words will get lost against his neck where she’s speaking so quietly. 

Harry hears, though. “You’re right,” he agrees, settling both hands on her hips. He guides her backwards just a bit, enough that she takes the hint and moves herself, lying next to him on the mattress with her knickers still rolled halfway down her thighs. 

The surreality of the situation hits her when Harry tugs them completely off and gently pushes her thighs open, his gaze so heavy that she almost convinces herself she can feel it. She’s shagged her friends before, but they’re both usually quite drunk, at least—she and Harry are sober but just as irresponsible, tumbling into this on a whim. He seems confident but overwhelmed, his cheeks flushed a bright red when he catches her eye after staring so intently between her legs. 

“You said you wanted to do this,” she realizes. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. He settles right between her legs then, stretched out on his belly, before dropping a light kiss to her lower stomach. 

Louis tries her hardest not to squirm, watching his mouth as he leaves a series of soft kisses across one of her hipbones. She misses his long hair for a moment, imagining what the loose curls might’ve felt like, dragging over her skin while he kissed her. 

“You—have you thought about it?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Harry says again, absentmindedly this time. His focus is locked onto her pussy now, she thinks; he shuffles his body lower in the bed to get a good look at it, tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. 

Louis glances at the clock, a habit that formed after her ninth or tenth time having sex, after she’d already become a bit jaded about the whole… orgasm thing. It’s 11:24 at night now and she snaps her eyes shut as soon as she sees the time, trying to put it out of her mind. _I’m going to come tonight_ , she tells herself again, just as she had when it was only her and a vibrator, before she’d allowed herself to get desperate and text one of her best mates to come round and try to fix her problems. Fuck. 

“Haz, please,” she whispers after a moment, when the only thing she feels is his steady breath between her legs. 

“Sorry, yeah,” Harry whispers back. 

The next thing she feels is Harry’s tongue against her clit, incredibly soft. Louis covers her mouth with her hand and holds in a sound, dropping her thighs open wider when Harry licks her again. It’s almost light enough to tease. When Harry curls both hands over her thighs and fits his lips around her clit to give it a gentle suck, she reaches down to twist the fingers of her free hand in his hair, tight enough that it probably hurts him. 

He’s—good. He’s good. He takes nonverbal instruction more readily than anyone Louis’s ever been with, flattening his tongue to slip into her pussy when she pushes his head lower and licking back up to suck her clit when she tugs his hair. Instead of feeling bored like she usually does with oral, she feels shaky and excited, squirming under his mouth and moaning when he follows her hips instead of stopping. 

Harry also seems to realize he’s in for a marathon and not a sprint. After a long moment of intensity where he lets Louis guide his head wherever she wants it, he slows down and pulls his mouth away to breathe, staring up at her with wide, wet eyes. Still, he doesn’t stop—he keeps her pussy spread with his thumbs and licks her while they both calm down, in these slow broad strokes that make her breath catch in her throat with each one. She feels like she could fucking pass out. 

She can’t bring herself to speak again yet, but Harry still doesn’t seem to need her voice. He moans happily against her when she pulls him close by the back of the head and slides his lips back to her clit, sucking in a tight pulse that makes her hips jerk towards him. There’s no hesitation in his movements, just a confidence that she can’t help but find a bit annoying, something she wishes she had herself. He flows seamlessly between intensities, making Louis’s breath come in embarrassing little whines for moments at a time before finally easing up to let her relax. 

The longer she feels his mouth on her the more she thinks she might actually be able to pull it off; sex like this feels like there’s a goal, like she’s working towards something. It’s a marked difference from the last few times she’s had a shag, letting some bloke she’s known for three hours slobber on her clit so he won’t feel guilty about shooting off in half a minute once he’s got it in her. Harry seems content to work her with his mouth for as long as she wants, just as he said he would be. 

But—of course—just as Louis begins to think she may be feeling a stronger sort of tingle than she usually does, she glances at the clock. Time has been marching steadily onward while she was distracted and it’s now 11:51, which comes as a nasty shock. The fact that Harry’s been licking her pussy for damn near half an hour with nothing to show for it disheartens her more than she cares to admit. 

“Harry,” she murmurs, a bit guilty, “you—stop, you can stop, s’alright.” 

He seems confused, brows furrowed when he looks up at her, pausing with his tongue half-buried in her cunt. “Hm?” 

“We can do something else, like… you don’t have to keep going,” she insists, offering him an out. 

Harry licks his lips and props himself up on one elbow, not bothering to wipe the wetness from his chin. “D’you want me to stop?” 

“I mean—you’ve been at it for a while,” she points out. 

“I know,” he mumbles, eyes dropping between her legs again. Louis feels herself blush, a little. “You taste really nice, by the way.” 

“God,” Louis breathes, rubbing a hand over her face. “Isn’t your jaw fucking sore?” 

“Like—kinda, yeah,” Harry admits. He surprises her then by leaning back down to give her clit a soft suck, humming out a pleased sound. “I don’t mind it, though. Can keep going if you like.” 

Louis whimpers louder then, biting down on her knuckles for a brief moment. “No, I want, like—I want you to fuck me,” she decides. He’ll get something out of that besides a sore jaw, at least, and she’s had more than a few curious thoughts about his cock. 

“Do you really?” Harry asks, but she can tell it’s more politely seeking confirmation than anything else, judging by how quickly he pushes himself up onto his knees between her legs. 

Once she catches sight of the slightly impressive bulge in his jeans, she says, “I do, really.” 

She shouldn’t be surprised by the way Harry looks at her since he’s just eaten her out for fucking ages, but she still feels—exposed. “I want you naked first,” he murmurs, crawling up between her legs to push the hem of her shirt up her belly. When she doesn’t protest, he eases it over her chest and lets out a pleased sigh when her breasts come into view. 

“You a chest man, then?” she asks, as teasing as she can manage. She doesn’t feel very sexy at the moment, tits flat and sloping off to the sides, but Harry’s still looking at her like he’s practically in love. In lust, at least. 

“I’m an everything man,” he says matter-of-factly. He nuzzles her chest in a sweet sort of way, kissing over to one nipple to give it a light suck. 

Louis sighs, “Shit.” She nudges him away so that she can sit up and toss her shirt into the floor, keenly aware as soon as she’s done it that she’s now naked while Harry’s still fully dressed, his top tickling her belly where he’s hanging loose on his body. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Louis,” Harry tells her. He says it softly, surprisingly candid, like he wasn’t expecting to be so forthcoming. Louis takes too long to think of a response; she just wraps her arms around his waist and gasps when he kisses her neck, trying to hold him close to her. 

“Want you naked too,” she says, turning her head to murmur it against his hair. 

“I will,” he promises. He kisses her cheek and the corner of her mouth, mumbling, “Like this? D’you like it on your back?” 

“Yeah, c’mon,” Louis insists. She impatiently tugs Harry’s shirt over his head, smiling when he shakes it like he’s reorienting himself once he’s topless. 

“I told you I was getting there,” he teases, ruffling his disheveled hair with one hand. 

“Going too slow,” Louis grins. 

Harry scoffs, rising up onto his knees again to undo the button and zip on his jeans. “I was being gentlemanly,” he tries, letting his fly stay open to give Louis a good look at his cock through his pants. 

She takes the opportunity, as well, even though she knows it’s just feeding his ego. “Is he going to be a gentleman?” she asks, nodding towards his crotch. 

“He’s always a gentleman,” Harry says. He gives himself a quick rub then, just to show off, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his pants to pull them over his cock. 

Though it isn’t exactly unexpected, it’s still a bit of a shock to see how big he is. Louis openly stares when Harry drags his fingertips over his wet tip, swallowing when his cock kicks hard enough to hit his belly. 

“Jesus,” Louis says, incredulous. “Fuck the orgasm thing, it’s not even gonna fit in me.” 

Harry kind of giggles at that. “It will,” he promises. “You’re really wet and s’not as big as it looks.” 

“That’s reassuring, ‘cos it looks fucking huge,” Louis tells him, still not convinced. 

“Just because I shaved. It’s an optical illusion.” 

“Harry.” 

“Louis,” he says back, obviously amused. He pulls two condoms out of his back pocket and sets them on Louis’s belly before wrestling with his jeans and pants, trying to kick them off entirely with as little effort as possible. He ends up looking a bit ridiculous. 

“Like—I was kinda joking, but I’m really not joking. I have no idea if it’s gonna fit.” His cock is easily the biggest she’s seen in real life and by far the biggest she’ll have attempted to take inside, but she doesn’t tell him this. Even though he can probably guess from her hesitance. 

Harry schools his face into something more serious then, brushing the condoms aside to slide his hand down her stomach. “We don’t have to. I already told you I’d eat you out, like, all fucking night,” he says. 

Louis can’t tell if he’s disappointed or not. She’s also not sure if it matters. “Well… I wanna try, at least,” she mumbles, suspiciously eyeing his cock. He’s quite long, but mostly she’s worried about how thick he is and whether any potential pleasure would be worth the effort of stretching to take him. 

“Your mouth is saying one thing and your face is saying another,” Harry points out, smiling a little. He lies gingerly on top of her and gives her lips a light kiss, the first since he went down on her. “Seriously, we don’t have to.” 

The feeling of his cock pressed hot against her pelvis is more convincing than his words, as sweet as they are. “I want to,” she insists, looking at his face. “You can just stop if it’s too big.” 

“I will,” Harry promises in a quiet murmur. He kisses her once more and pushes himself up again to grab one of the condoms. “D’you have lube? Wanna make it a little wetter?” 

“Yeah, please,” Louis says. “It’s in the nightstand, but—hang on, I’ll get it,” she insists, moving to sit up when she remembers how she haphazardly tossed her still-slick vibrator in that drawer before answering the door. 

“I’ve got it,” Harry smiles, affectionately rubbing a hand down her arm. He crawls to the edge of the bed and makes a playful, interested sound when he opens the drawer and spots the toy, but he only grabs the lube before closing it again. “Had a bit of fun earlier, I see.” 

Embarrassed for some reason, Louis gently jabs him in the side. “I’ve got needs. And that little guy wasn’t doing his job, had to call in the big guns,” she says, glancing at Harry’s cock again. 

“I wouldn’t call it a _gun_. Seems too aggressive,” Harry says. 

“It looks pretty aggressive, to be fair,” Louis laughs. She touches him for the first time then, wrapping a loose hand around his cock while he crawls back between her legs. He feels hard enough that it seems like it might hurt, but Harry just lets out a pleased little whine when she strokes him. 

Belatedly, he gasps, “Not aggressive,” his head dropped down to watch Louis’s hand on him. He doesn’t let her carry on for long, though, gently pulling her away by the wrist with a laugh, “Fuck. Stop that, m’trying to—keep my stamina up.” 

“Thought that was a magic cock,” Louis accuses, though she obediently stretches back out in bed and watches him roll a condom on, feeling her heart start to pump a bit more nervously. “You can’t keep it up as long as you need it? What’s the use of that?” 

“Magic takes decades to learn,” Harry tells her without missing a beat. “Need time to perfect the craft.” 

He picks up the lube then, but instead of pouring some into his own hand like she expects, he fits the tip of the bottle against her pussy and squeezes, letting it fill her up from the inside. It feels sort of filthy, the cool lube sliding out of her and down onto the bedsheets under her ass. Harry makes a halfhearted effort to stop the mess, dragging two fingertips between her cheeks and across her hole, trying to spread the lube back up to her pussy. 

“Jesus, Harry,” she breathes, squirming, as if the feeling itself isn’t making her wetter. 

“Rather have too much than too little,” he murmurs. She watches him smear the excess lube over his cock, catching the way his eyes close as soon as he touches himself. 

Louis can’t help but tease him, “Careful. Mind your stamina.” 

He smiles with his eyes still shut, blinking down at her after a moment, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Harry feels up both of her thighs instead, one hand a bit stickier than the other. When he stretches himself out on top of her this time, Louis starts to breathe much more quickly, the nervous thrill that’s been lying under the surface finally kicking into full gear. He reaches between their bodies to steady his cock and rubs the tip through the mess of slick, kissing her when she whines. 

“Inside,” Louis whispers against his lips, once she thinks she’s ready for it. She spreads her legs wider and closes her eyes, repeating another little mantra in her head, _stay open_. 

For a long second, she’s sure that she was right—his cock is so thick that the amount of lube won’t matter, there’s no way it’ll fit. Harry has to keep his hand between them to hold himself still while he tries to push in, absurdly slow so that he won’t just slip against her, and it seems like it _can’t_ work. 

But then, suddenly, she feels the head of his cock slip completely inside. Her pussy clenches tight around the ridge of him and she moans against his cheek, grabbing a fistful of his hair. It hurts, but not entirely in a bad way. 

“Alright? Lou,” Harry gasps, his breath coming quick against her ear, body taut and almost trembling on top of her from trying to keep still. 

“Yeah,” is all she can get out, attempting to force herself to relax again to let him inside deeper. When Harry doesn’t move right away she tries to urge him closer, pulling him in with a hand on the small of his back, “S’alright.” 

Getting the rest of his cock inside is easier, after that. He’s too long to fit completely in her, but the lube and his patience pay off; he works in as deep as he can manage with a series of gentle thrusts, moaning softly into her neck when he realizes he can put a bit more of his weight on her. Once he starts to move his hips, slowly rocking in and out of her, Louis feels herself begin to sweat. 

It feels like an accomplishment, taking his cock. There’s already an ache blooming between her legs that she knows will grow in intensity the longer he fucks her, but she _wants_ it—she forgets about the fact that this is only happening for him to try and make her come and just thinks about feeling sore and well-fucked tomorrow instead, waking up with Harry in her bed. 

He’s just as good at this as he is with his mouth. Once he settles into a steady but slow pace he stays just like that, dropping kisses all along her neck and shoulder. It’s not rough enough to hurt her but not gentle enough to be dull, rather an almost-perfect middle ground where Louis feels—once again—like this might be sex with a goal. Harry sucks a lovebite into the side of her neck, teeth nipping between thrusts; she should probably complain, but she just murmurs his name and tries to worm a hand between them to rub her clit. 

When Harry lifts his body to let her touch herself, the angle of his cock inside her changes for the better. His next thrusts make her whimper with each one, hips twitching towards him. The change in reaction is enough to excite him as well—he mumbles to her, “Yeah, love,” chancing a quicker speed, maybe to encourage her. 

“ _Fucking_ hell,” Louis gasps. She matches the movement of her fingers against her clit to the speed of Harry’s hips, covering her eyes with her free hand. His unflinching rhythm makes it feel better the longer he manages to keep it up, and she starts to think that maybe that’s what she’s been missing: someone with unnatural stamina, a sense of rhythm, and an impressive determination to get her off. She can never manage to fuck herself for long before her arms are exhausted and everything stops feeling good, and no one she’s been with before has fucked her so steadily before. 

She gets caught up in her thoughts, focusing all of her attention between her legs where she can feel Harry pulling out far enough that only his cockhead is left inside before fucking back in deep. Every few thrusts pushes another noise out of her until nearly every breath comes out as a whine. There’s a moment where Louis is sure that she can really fucking do this, as long as Harry keeps going she thinks she can actually come just like this—

And at that moment, just as she feels herself start to tense up, Harry’s hips slow to a near-stop. 

“Goddamnit,” Louis groans, frustrated, taking her hand away from her clit to slap the mattress next to her hips. 

Harry completely stops now, only half inside her like he’s not sure if he should pull out. “What’s wrong?” 

“I didn’t want you to stop!” Louis tells him, more annoyed than she means to be. 

“Shit, sorry,” Harry laughs, “I had to slow down, I was too—got too close.” 

“Well, I was fucking close too,” Louis says, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face to level him with a frown. “At least I think so.” 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

“‘Cos it’s never… I don’t know what it actually feels like! I don’t—whatever,” Louis says, shaking her head and twisting her hips away so that his cock slips out. She feels embarrassingly close to crying. 

“Louis,” Harry murmurs, rubbing her side. It’s pretty much impossible to escape him when he’s still on top of her, so Louis just covers her face with one hand again, sucking in a deep breath while trying to ignore him. “D’you wanna stop?” 

She doesn’t, but she also sort of wants to pretend she does so she can process the fact that she’ll never have a fucking orgasm in peace. “I already told you I _didn’t_ want you to stop,” she mumbles, stroppy. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, kissing what he can reach of her lips with her hand in the way. “We can try again, won’t stop until you tell me to this time. As long as we can switch positions, ‘cos my muscles might give out otherwise.” 

Louis sighs, but smiles after a moment. Harry is smiling back at her when she takes her hand away from her eyes, which are hopefully not wet enough for him to notice. “We can switch positions,” she allows. 

“Sick,” Harry grins. He sits up after planting one more kiss to her lips and looks at her like he’s contemplating his options. “I wanna, like—get on your knees? And turn around.” 

“Oh, wow,” Louis teases, pushing herself up to follow his instructions. “Gonna take me from behind, then? Makes it feel quite dirty.” 

“You’re making it sound dirtier than I meant it,” Harry laughs. He wraps his arms around her waist when she’s finished turning around, wet cock nudged up against her bum. 

Louis sighs, leaning back against his chest. “So you just wanted a cuddle, then.” 

“Yup,” Harry says. He guides his tip into her and then moves his hands to her hips, gently pulling her down and back onto his cock. She doesn’t need to try so hard to fit him in this time; her body must know she can take it, because she opens up right away. 

“ _Shit_ ,” she moans, dropping her head forward. 

Harry kisses the back of her neck, slowly working his way into a rhythm like before. “S’it feel nice?” 

Louis only nods, bracing her hands on her thighs. It feels _really_ nice. She can’t fit any more of him inside than she could on her back, but the position makes it feel like she can. Every time Harry guides her back her ass rests in the cradle of his hips for a moment, letting her know that he’s in as deep as she can take him. 

It’s intimate, as well. Harry presses himself along her back after his first few exploratory thrusts, dropping one hand to her pussy to feel where he’s pushing inside. “I wanted to be able to reach your clit,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear, kissing it after she whines in response. “Can touch you everywhere like this.” 

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, breathless. 

Harry can’t manage a speed as quick as before, but Louis can’t bring herself to care. The thrusts he’s giving her now are so thorough that she thinks she might prefer it to something fast, anyway, especially when Harry properly attempts to impress her with his multitasking skills. He keeps his right hand between her legs and starts to rub her clit just as steadily as he’s fucking her, drawing a loud moan from her. 

“God, that’s fucking good,” Louis manages to gasp, leaning her head back against his shoulder. She feels Harry breathe out a little laugh against her neck, but he doesn’t stop his hips or his hand. 

At this point, she’s _sensitive_. She wants to check the clock but forces herself to shut her eyes and avoid looking, since it’d just make her self-conscious (again)—what she knows for sure is that she’s never had sex with herself or anyone else for this long without a real, proper break. Half the blood in her body must be between her legs by now, if the way her cunt is pulsing around Harry’s cock is any indication. Her clit feels like it’s humming under his fingers, like there’s almost too much pleasure there. 

She reaches that point where she thinks _maybe_ again more quickly than she did before, this time. Still, she isn’t sure that Harry can keep up the pace for much longer; he must be holding on by a thread at this point, considering the frantic whimpering breaths she feels against her neck. He never falters, though. The slow pace has to help—she feels him take these deep, steadying breaths after every handful of thrusts, like he’s steeling himself. Counting backwards from a thousand, maybe. Thinking about his nana. 

The longer he manages to hold off, the closer Louis thinks she must be getting to—something. If not to an orgasm, to some new standard of sex she’s going to be holding every partner after this to. She moves her hands back to Harry’s thighs and starts to grind her hips down against him, his cock and his hand, getting louder than she’d usually like to be. Even through this, Harry doesn’t alter his rhythm, apparently having learned his lesson the first time. 

“Harry,” she groans after a moment, nails digging into his thighs. 

“I know, c’mon,” he whispers. He doesn’t say anything else after that, but she can feel the effort he’s putting into keeping everything the same, just for her. His body is tense behind her, free hand tight against her hip while his fingers stay firm but gentle on her clit. 

Louis has time to think _fuck, maybe,_ one more time before… something happens. She sits back on Harry’s cock and goes still, mouth dropping open while he continues to fuck her—it feels like every tense muscle in her body snaps at once, with only her pussy still tight and clenching around Harry. It’s almost like a massage, she thinks, that moment when the knot finally gets worked out and the pain melts into something much more pleasant, except there’s no pain here. It’s like a thick pleasure that’s slowly pouring out of her in waves, getting caught in the center of her body on the way out. 

She almost forgets Harry’s there for a moment. His pace changing suddenly reminds her of his presence; his mouth is pressed tight to her neck, muffling his breathy groans. He fucks into her more roughly now, like he can’t help it, and the force makes her realize how sore she actually is. She has to pull his hand away from her clit when an unintentionally hard rub makes her yelp, but she lets him keep going. 

“Holy shit,” Louis gasps, letting out an incredulous laugh. Harry just moans instead of responding, snapping his hips before he goes still. She can feel his cock jerking inside her while he comes, and it’s at that moment that Louis _really_ realizes. 

She had a fucking orgasm. 

She can’t even wait for Harry to come down from his own before she’s looking over her shoulder and elbowing him in the ribs, “Harry!” 

“Fuck,” he gasps, sounding winded. He rubs the spot on his side that her elbow digs in, looking over her face. 

“I came,” she tells him, grinning, honestly thrilled about it. 

“I _know_ you did,” he insists, pulling her close again to kiss the bruise he sucked into her neck earlier. “Like a fucking vice around my cock, couldn’t’ve missed it.” 

“Oh my god,” Louis sighs. She turns around until he slips out of her, winding her arms around his neck before kissing him. It’s a proper one this time, deeper than she’s kissed him all night; she holds the back of his head and opens her mouth for him, letting him lick inside even though he still tastes like her. 

Harry manages to slip the condom off while he’s kissing her, holding it in one hand while the other roams its way up her body, pausing at her chest to thumb over a nipple. “Told you I’ve got a magic cock,” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Fuck off,” Louis laughs, pushing him away from her. He grins, carefully tying the condom off before tossing it in her nightstand bin. 

Her sheets are an absolute mess. There’s two massive wet spots, one from where Harry fucked her on her back and one right underneath them now; her thighs are wet as well, and now that she’s not aroused—for once, fuck—the aftermath is sort of gross. Still, she sprawls out off to the side to avoid the wet patches and watches Harry move. 

He is, understandably, looking quite smug. He smirks at her when he comes back in close, crawling on top of her to kiss his way across her cheek to her lips. “You’re welcome,” he insists between kisses. 

“I haven’t thanked you yet. I might not ever. I’m sore as fuck now,” she says, wrapping both her arms and legs around him suddenly enough to make him laugh. 

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Harry says. He flops down more heavily than Louis was prepared for, knocking the breath out of her, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Now we know you can come though, think it’s worth it for that piece of wisdom. Can tell Lauren to go fuck herself, now.” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis grins. “Bet that prick has never had to work so hard for an orgasm in her fucking life.” 

“Can guarantee you she hasn’t.” 

“And you worked hard, as well,” Louis allows, brushing her lips against Harry’s jaw. He’s got a weird dusting of stubble that she’s been too distracted to notice til now, and the scrape of it tickles her lips. 

“I wasn’t gonna brag,” Harry says airily. 

“You’ve already bragged.” 

“I wasn’t gonna keep bragging,” he amends. 

Louis smiles and gives him a little kiss, only half on the lips. “You’re allowed to keep bragging, I reckon. First person in the world to make me come, s’quite an honor.” 

“Oh, my ego’s fit to explode right now,” Harry tells her with a slight shiver. 

“I’m very, very impressed with you,” she murmurs, teasing him but being honest as well. “I’m even gonna let you keep calling your penis _the magic cock_.” 

“The Magic Cock,” Harry says with an air of formality, grinning wide at her. “You’re welcome to his services any time.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna take you up on that,” Louis tells him, very serious. 

He dips down to kiss her again and hums, mumbling into her mouth, “I _sincerely_ hope that you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://zaptains.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/bizourry) :B


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